


If I'd Saved You

by lettersbyelise



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Enemies to Friends, Gen, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sectumsempra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 04:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14633877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersbyelise/pseuds/lettersbyelise
Summary: “Crucio!”Harry is so stunned by the word leaving Malfoy’s mouth –he didn’t!– that his own wordless hex dies at the tip of his wand and Malfoy’s curse hits him.Or maybe it doesn’t.Because Harry doesn't feel any pain.A short fic about the aftermath of Draco's failed Cruciatus curse in the Sectumsempra scene in HBP.





	If I'd Saved You

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](https://lettersbyelise.tumblr.com/post/173840686206/acciohomosexual-so-you-all-remember-in-hbp-when) Tumblr post.

“ _Crucio_!”

Harry is so stunned by the word leaving Malfoy’s mouth – _he didn’t!–_ that his own wordless hex dies at the tip of his wand and Malfoy’s curse hits him.  
  
Or maybe it doesn’t.  
  
Because nothing happens.  
  
Harry knows _Crucio_ . He knows the pain. The blinding, scorching, _I’ll-do-anything-please-make-it-stop_ pain. And this – this is not it. Malfoy’s Cruciatus curse hits him and all he feels is a light sting. Nothing worse than what he sustained when he was teaching Luna the Stinging hex at the DA.  
  
_You have to really mean it!_ Bellatrix Lestrange cackles in his head, and he almost tells Malfoy.

He almost tells him, and he wants to throw back his head and laugh with relief, with compassion. In the middle of an abandoned bathroom where this boy tried to make him hurt, and the lone ghost of a long-dead girl hides inside a cubicle, he’s just had a sudden realisation: Malfoy is not evil.

Because just like Harry knows _Crucio_ , he knows evil, too. And the boy standing in front of him, the one he’s walked in on while he cried with fear, the one who’s antagonised him and mocked him and taunted him all those years, the one who is now in need of saving… this boy isn’t evil.

He’s scared, and lost, and yes, maybe terribly prejudiced, too –although even that seems to be going up in smoke right now– but he’s still redeemable.

And he wants to make Malfoy see. He wants to tell him that he cast that curse out of shame, out of rage. It doesn’t excuse it in the least, but there’s still a difference to Harry.

Draco Malfoy is not evil, and the curse doesn’t hurt.  
  
Because the truth of it is, he doesn’t really mean it.  
  
Harry doesn’t realise he hasn’t fired a spell back at Malfoy, which he should have done while he had the advantage, until Malfoy’s gasping intake of breath pulls him abruptly out of his thoughts.

They stare at each other for a second –Malfoy seems stunned, his wand hand hanging limply at his side, and Harry is still processing the sudden understanding that hit him with its clarity at the same time as Malfoy’s curse. The harsh sounds of their ragged breaths echo against the half-torn-down tiles of the bathroom.  
  
And then–  
  
“I’m sorry.” Malfoy crumples to his knees on the wet floor. He drops his wand –drops his wand!– and it clatters against the tiles. His hands go to his face, rake through his hair. “I’m so fucking sorry–I’m sorry–”  
  
Harry doesn’t think. Instinct carries him to Malfoy before he can think anything of it.  
  
“Malfoy–”  
  
“I didn’t mean to–I just wanted to– to hurt you–“ He looks up at Harry then, his red-rimmed grey eyes gleaming with tears in the semi-darkness. Whatever he finds in Harry’s eyes makes him shake his head into his hands again, shuddering. “This is horrible–unforgivable–Potter, I _never–_ “ Malfoys voice comes muffled from behind his hands, and it sounds like a sob, like he’s crying again.  
  
Crouching on the floor in front of him, water from the puddles seeping into the fabric of his trousers,Harry puts a reassuring hand on Malfoy’s shoulder. He just has time for the thoughts to hit him with the giddy force of a marching band– _you’re touching him! Oh his shirt fabric is soft. Ohmygod his skin! His skin is warm under his shirt! You’re touching him for the first time!_ –when Malfoy flinches away from his touch like he’s been stung. He looks at Harry as if he’s gobsmacked by Harry’s friendly hand on his shoulder, and Harry feels himself bristling again.

“Malfoy, stop it,” he says, angry but firm. “You did not hurt me.”

“Stop pretending you’re so fucking noble, Potter,” Malfoy sneers, and if the words are resentful, there is no bite to them. “I just cast a Cruci-“

“I know what you did,” Harry interrupts. He’s still kneeling in front of Malfoy, who is still on his knees on the cold, wet floor. Drops of water drip steadily from a tap behind them. Harry can hear Moaning Myrtle’s sniffles from the cubicle in the back. She must be listening intently, but he finds he doesn’t care. The boy in front of him is more important.

Suddenly, Malfoy is the most important.

“I know what you did. It was bad, and thoughtless. And I understand. It’s okay. I forgive you.”

Malfoy’s eyes widen, lift to Harry’s.

“Are you pulling my leg, Potter?” He whispers. Harry can tell he’s trying to sound aggressive, but it only comes out as hesitant. Careful. “This is not funny. You could– you’d have every right to–to send me to Azkaban. No doubt everyone would be delighted to see me there.”

Harry’s heart clenches painfully in his chest. “I’m not going to. You didn’t hurt me. You didn’t mean it.”

Malfoy stares at him in disbelief.

“Why must you always witness me at my lowest, Potter,” he murmurs, as if thinking to himself.

“This–this could have been _my_ lowest, too. Malfoy, I wanted to hurt you just as much as you did. You just got there faster.”

Malfoy shakes his head, exhales a humourless laugh. His eyes flick to Harry’s again, guarded, searching. “Did I really not hurt you?”

“No,” Harry smiles slowly at him. “A first-year would have hurt me more with that curse than you did, you great big sucker.”

The insult was meant to shock Malfoy back into his usual self, he supposes. Instead, it comes out as–a friendly gesture. A hand held out. An entreaty.

And Malfoy–Malfoy smiles at him now, too.

It’s a good smile, hesitant yet genuine. It’s such a far cry from Malfoy’s trademark smirk that Harry is hit with how much it transforms his face. It makes him look younger, more approachable. Handsome, even. Like someone Harry could be friends with.

He supposes it might still happen, someday.

“I’m still sorry,” Malfoy tells him, his voice low.

“I’m sorry too,” Harry says. “I shouldn’t have started a fight with you. You obviously–“ He hesitates. He doesn't want to hurt Malfoy’s pride, he doesn’t want to scare him away now that he almost has him–Merlin, what a thought!–but he has to ask. He spent the whole year stalking Malfoy, obsessing over his every move–he sees it now, how mad he must have looked to Hermione and Ron, and somehow he’s glad he did, because it all brought him to this moment of truth. He can’t let this go.

“Malfoy… Draco,” he says, and the other boy lifts surprised eyes to his. “I should have just helped you. Please. Can I help you?”

Draco looks away.

“Are you really out to save everyone, Potter?” His expression is pained. “Because you can’t.”

“I know. I’m not offering to save you. I’m offering to help you save yourself.” He thinks about it for a split second and adds, “And you can call me Harry.”

Bewildered grey eyes stare at him again.

“It’s not just me. It’s…” He rakes a shaking hand through his hair. Sitting in the cold puddles of water, his wet, white-blond hair curling around his ears, against his forehead, he looks small. Lost. All things Harry has never thought Draco Malfoy could ever look.

In that moment, it makes him… almost _like_ him.

“You family, isn’t it?” Harry provides, and Draco gives him an abashed nod.

“He’ll kill them. He’ll kill _me_. I don’t–-“ he hides his face into his hands again. Harry realises he’s shaking. It’s cold, and the water permeating their clothes makes them both colder. But it’s not just that. In an instinctive gesture of comfort, Harry’s hand goes back to Draco’s shoulder–and Draco doesn’t move away this time. Encouraged, Harry’s thumb rubs a tentative circle against Draco’s shirt, and Draco lets out a shuddering breath.

“Fuck, Harry.” The use of Harry’s given name seems to surprise them both. Their eyes meet, awkward and pleased, and they both laugh quietly. “Gryffindors must be bloody contagious if I’m even listening to you. You’re going to make me do it, aren’t you?”

“We’ve known each other for six years, Draco. Don't tell me you’re only realising now that I’m a stubborn bastard?” He grins. “I said I’ll help you, and I will. We’ll find a way.”

Draco gives him a small, tentative smile. “And you haven’t got a plan, have you?”

“Again, I’m almost offended that you’d think I do,” Harry tells him, mock-serious. He stands, water dripping from the fabric of his trousers, sipping out of his shoes. He holds out his hand, and Draco seems to study it, hesitating one last time before he wraps his right hand around Harry’s. With his left, he grabs his wand still lying in the water, and Harry hauls him up.

“Come on, let’s go figure this out.”

Draco’s weight rests against Harry for a second, as if he’s steadying himself for the fight ahead–a different kind of fight, by no means less fierce and vicious as the one they started in this bathroom what feels like a lifetime ago–and Harry lets him, warmed by Draco’s instinctual physical trust.

“And this includes… let me guess. Meeting with Dumbledore?” Draco asks, and Harry doesn't miss the subtle eye roll. It’s oddly comforting to see it again on Draco’s face, he thinks. As though the proud, sarcastic, snarky bastard he’s always known is not too far underneath the surface of shame and fear.

“Eventually, perhaps,” Harry concedes. “But before then… I have two brilliant friends that I’d like you to meet.”

And this time, Draco’s eye roll is not subtle, but neither is his smile, braced for the battle to come.

  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] If I'd Saved You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16494338) by [semperfiona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/semperfiona/pseuds/semperfiona)




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